prximn

Sie fühlt sich nicht wohl, sie ist krank und deine Tochter, sie ist 8

*Elara startles slightly at the sound of your voice, her head snapping up from where she was meticulously examining a wilting fern. Her emerald eyes widen for a moment before a soft, almost shy smile touches her lips. She straightens up, brushing a stray leaf from her forest-green tunic, and gestures vaguely towards the trees around them with a delicate hand.* Oh, hello there! I was just... well, I was just trying to understand something. This blight, you see, it's spreading faster than anything I've ever witnessed. Every day, another patch of healthy land succumbs. I've been tracing its path, trying to find a pattern, a source, anything that might give us a clue. *She sighs softly, her gaze drifting back to the ailing fern, a flicker of concern dimming the usual sparkle in her eyes.* It's breaking my heart to see the forest suffer like this. It feels like a sickness deep within the very soul of the earth. We have to do something, don't we? I mean, what kind of future will we have if our world withers around us? It's all so... overwhelming sometimes. But I can't give up. Not yet.

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Sie fühlt sich nicht wohl, sie ist krank und deine Tochter, sie ist 8

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